


Retirement Plans

by kirallea



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirallea/pseuds/kirallea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. <i>She has lived in the Twin Cities for most of her life, but it has never felt like home to her, and she knows it never will.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Retirement Plans

She's asleep, has been for hours, but part of her is always awake, always listening. She wakes up with a start when she hears weird noises outside, from the front of the house: a loud bang, an even louder thump, muffled voices, a murmured conversation. Eyes wide and heart pounding, she sits up and quietly slides out of bed, trying not to awaken Gabrielle, who is still sound asleep on her side of the bed. There's a faint glimmer of light seeping through the blinds, but it's still mostly dark, the world quiet around them. Xena has no idea what the time is, and she has no intention of turning around and fumbling around for her phone to find out. 

She tiptoes towards the bedroom door, glancing around wildly, looking for something she could use as a weapon against the intruders. She frantically rummages through the objects on the dresser, and quickly gives up, decides to fight without weapons. When she was younger, she could have easily taken down an intruder or two without any help at all, but she's not in as good shape as she was forty years ago, something she's still reluctant to admit. She used to do a lot of martial arts back in the day, and pilates, and gymnastics, a little bit of everything. Now, at sixty-seven, she goes running four or five times a week, which is more than enough exercise for her. 

Xena's about to slip out of the room when she hears the sheets rustle behind her, and then the lamp on the nightstand is turned on, a bright yellow light filling the room and momentarily dazzling her. She blinks furiously and spins around, squinting to see the figure on the bed in front of her.

”Xena?” Gabrielle says, her voice thick with interrupted sleep. She's looking at her with an expression of mild confusion, hair mussed and eyes half-lidded. If Xena wasn't in such a hurry, she would take a moment to appreciate the sight; it reminds her of a time when they were much younger, Gabrielle's head poking out from under the covers as Xena slipped out of bed to get ready for class, her eyes fluttering shut as Xena turned and leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. ”What the hell are you doing?”

”Stay back, Gabrielle,” Xena says in a hushed voice, pushing the bedroom door open with her foot. ”There's something I need to take care of.”

”Xena—”

”You stay here, alright? Everything's okay, I swear – everything's fine. I'll be back in a minute.”

She steps out before Gabrielle has a chance to open her mouth and sneaks into the hallway. Her breathing is getting heavier, and she can hear her hearbeat thudding in her ears, feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Their house was broken into a few months ago, while they were on a two-week holiday in Italy; the intruders took their TV, and laptops, and some of their jewelry, nothing irreplaceable but still valuable. It only took a couple of days to repair the damage caused by the break-in, but the feelings of insecurity and violation haunted them for weeks afterwards, and still do. Xena's not afraid of confronting a burglar or getting injured in a fight, but she can't stand the thought of someone physically hurting Gabrielle or making her feel vulnerable here, in their home, a place that's supposed to be cozy and safe and _their own._

She's halfway to the front door when it first occurs to her that maybe the house is not being broken into, after all, that maybe someone they know is just coming by, for some reason, someone with a very poor understanding of when it's appropriate to visit people in their homes. It's much more plausible than the idea of malevolent intruders creeping around their home, making a lot of noise and waking up everybody in the house as they try to break in. A second later, the doorbell rings, and Xena's shoulders slump in a mixture of relief and defeat, a soft breath leaving her lips.

She's not sure what she expected to find at the door, but it's not this: her son, Jason, and granddaughter, Sydney, shivering in their winter coats, hats pulled down over their foreheads and scarves wrapped around their necks. They look groggy, Sydney blinking heavily and Jason stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, his breath steaming in the cold morning air.

”Morning, Mom,” Jason says, perking up a little. ”Did we wake you up? Sorry about that.”

”What are you two doing here?” Xena asks. ”It's the middle of the night, you know that?”

”It's not that early,” Jason says. ”It's almost seven. We've been up since five. Sam's still teething, and he was crying, and, you know, he woke up the entire house. None of us was able to sleep after that.” 

”Poor Sam,” Xena says. ”That's unfortunate.” She adores her grandson, who recently turned eight months old. Sam has Jason's and Gabrielle's eyes, and he's incredibly sweet, just like his grandmother. Xena hopes he'll grow up to be just like her, too, a bright smile always on his face and a gentle twinkle in his eyes, his heart filled with love and compassion and courage.

”Anyway,” Jason says. ”We're here to pick up Sydney's phone. She left it here yesterday, remember? I called you last night and told you we'd come by this morning, before I take her to school.”

”Oh, yeah,” Xena says, suddenly recalling the conversation she'd had with him the night before. ”Right.”

”I know it's inconvenient, but I feel better knowing she has her phone with her,” Jason says. ”Is everything okay, Mom? You look kind of, um. Shaken, I guess?”

”No, no, everything's fine,” Xena says, quickly. ”We just – we were still sleeping, that's all.”

”She thought you were burglars, trying to break in,” Gabrielle says, appearing behind her. ”Hi, Sydney! You're up early. Have you had any breakfast yet?”

”What?” Jason looks from Gabrielle to Xena. ”Is that true?” His eyes are twinkling mischievously, his lips twitching with the effort to hold back a smile, and Xena doesn't like that look at all, wants to just go back to bed and wake up all over again, start the day in a completely different way.

”Yeah,” Gabrielle says. ”She told me to hide in the bedroom. I think she really believed she could deal with a group of potentially armed intruders all by herself.”

”Really?” Jason bursts into a booming laughter, his body shaking so hard that he has to brace his hand against the wall to keep his balance. Xena stares at him in confused disbelief, her nose wrinkled up in disgust. She can't believe she's standing half-naked on her porch at seven in the morning and being mocked for wanting to protect her wife from potential danger, which is something Gabrielle would certainly do for her, and Jason for his wife, too, if they had to.

”God, Mom,” Jason says, straightening up. ”You remind me of one of those hillbillies who sleep with a gun under their bed and—”

”Does Grandma have a gun?” Sydney asks. She looks alarmed by the idea, her eyes wide with fear as she glances back and forth between Jason and Xena.

”Of course not, sweetheart,” Gabrielle says. ”Come on, let's go inside. It's freezing out here.”

The house is like another world now, brighter and louder but also a lot more comfortable, so safe. Sydney sits at the kitchen table and munches on a bowl of Lucky Charms while Xena makes coffee for everyone, her back turned to Jason and Gabrielle. She rolls her eyes when Jason pulls Gabrielle aside for a hushed conversation, the two of them standing with their heads together like they're plotting against her, which could be true. They probably think Xena can't hear them, but she has always been extremely observant of her surroundings, and her hearing is still excellent. Xena takes a seat at the table across from Sydney, picks up yesterday's newspaper and skims through the headlines, her eyes narrowing when she hears Jason ask, in a low voice: _No, but seriously, Ma, is everything okay with Mom? What just happened was kind of weird, don't you think? I'm starting to get worried about her_ , followed by Gabrielle's almost-whispered reply: _No, no, she's fine, really. It's just – our minds go back to that incident every time something unexpected happens. It's not easy to forget something like that, you know?_

Xena gets up and pours herself a cup of coffee, staring out the kitchen window as she slowly sips her drink. It's starting to get light out, and the neighborhood's slowly waking up, some people already shoveling their driveways or heading to work. If it was summer, the early risers would be mowing their lawns by now, their kids screaming and laughing as they run around in the wet grass, still wearing their pajamas. The noise doesn't usually bother her too much, but there are times when she's annoyed by it, annoyed by a lot of things; the neighbors, the neighborhood, the traffic, everything. Sometimes, it gets to the point where she feels suffocated, the city way too big and crowded and hectic for her liking, and even though it always goes away, she knows she will never be able to get rid of it, not completely.

She has lived in the Twin Cities for most of her life, but it has never felt like home to her, and she knows it never will. She dreams of living in a house by a lake, surrounded by woods and fields and endless silence, the closest neighbors at least half a mile away. Sometimes, it feels more like an actual memory rather than a mere dream, albeit a very distant one: her and Gabrielle, waking up to the sound of rain, wind, birds singing outside, the forest lush and green around them, the earthy smell as comforting as it is familiar. 

They've been talking about it on and off for years, the idea of moving to the countryside after retirement and living there for the rest of their lives. Gabrielle clearly likes it, because her eyes light up every time Xena brings up the subject, but she's hesitant to actually agree to it, has always been. Xena doesn't blame her; she knows Gabrielle wants to be able to see Jason and his family, wants to be able to spend time with them, and especially with the grandkids, because they're so young, and they're growing up so fast. Xena wants that, too, but she doesn't mind driving an hour each way a couple of times a week if she knows that at the end of the day, she'll always return to a place she can truly call _home._

–

Gabrielle comes home late in the afternoon, red-cheeked and bright-eyed, stomping her boots and brushing snow from her hair. Xena's lounging on the living room couch, browsing through her phone. She spent the day exercising, and doing chores, getting dinner ready for her and Gabrielle. She was never much of a cook, but she's been making dinner pretty much every night after her retirement and has actually improved a lot, more than she thought she ever would. Cooking is still not something she particularly enjoys; she does it because she doesn't like the idea of Gabrielle coming home after a long day at work and having to cook just because Xena didn't, even though she has more than enough time on her hands. 

”Hi,” Gabrielle says from the doorway, shrugging out of her coat. ”What's for dinner? Smells good.”

”Tuna casserole,” Xena says. ”I've never tried this recipe before, so don't expect too much. I have no idea how it's going to turn out.”

”Well, I'm sure it's going to be delicious.”

”How was work? The same as usual?”

”It was alright,” Gabrielle says. She walks into the living room and flops down on the couch beside her. ”Just a little tiring, that's all.” She's a high school English teacher, liked by her students and respected by her colleagues, which is not surprising, because people tend to like her in general, no matter where she is or what she does.

”What are you looking at?” Gabrielle scoots closer to her, craning her neck to see the screen. Xena briefly contemplates just closing the browser, but quickly decides against it, because there is no reason to avoid talking about this, not really. Gabrielle already knows, and she's ready to listen, she always is.

”Just some pictures of houses for sale,” she says instead. ”Rural properties, mostly, here in Minnesota.” 

”Mm.” Gabrielle snuggles up against her side and rests her head against Xena's shoulder. Xena wraps her arm around her, holds her close. ”You found anything you like?”

”Well, yeah. There's one for sale in Annandale, a really nice house near one of the lakes. There's a similar one near Cambridge as well, but that one's more of a cabin than an actual house.”

Gabrielle puts her hand on Xena's thigh, lets it just rest there. Xena plays with the sleeve of Gabrielle's shirt, absently twisting the fabric between her fingers. She can feel the warmth radiating from Gabrielle's body, smell the faint scent of the shampoo she'd used that morning: something herbal, clean and fresh, captivating but not overwhelming. She always loved coming home to this, a moment of peace and comfort and affection with Gabrielle, and even now, she still looks forward to it every day, every time she's away from her for more than a few hours.

”I've been thinking,” Xena says.

”Yeah?” Gabrielle's voice is very soft, very soothing. ”Tell me about it.”

”Well, it's just, you know, the usual – there's not much to tell. We've talked about this many times before.”

”I think about it, too, sometimes,” Gabrielle says. ”It's an appealing idea, isn't it? Living in a cozy little house in the countryside, away from the city.”

”Oh, yeah,” Xena says. ”A cozy little house – that would be perfect for us. Just a bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a small bathroom. Oh, and maybe a guest room for the kids. They could come over on weekends.”

”That would be a lot of fun,” Gabrielle says. ”I'm sure they would love it there. It's nice to get away from the city once in a while, especially in the summer months.”

”Yeah, absolutely. We could take the kids hiking or camping, introduce them to a variety of outdoor activities. Fishing, skiing, gardening – something different for every season. We could grow our own vegetables in our garden, you know, at least some of them.”

”You think we could afford to buy a house?” Gabrielle asks. 

”Well, we'd make a decent amount of money by selling this one,” Xena says. ”We do have savings, too. We'd need to do some investigation, of course – property prices, available options, that kind of stuff. There's a lot to be done in general before we could actually buy or sell anything, but. It's certainly not impossible.”

Gabrielle hums in agreement, presses her cheek against her shoulder. Her finger draws random patterns on Xena's thigh, and it's really nice, a fluttering touch that almost tickles her, but not exactly, helps her to relax. Xena takes a moment to enjoy it, her thumb hovering over her phone, occasionally tapping the screen and scrolling towards the bottom of the page.

”I think we should do it,” Gabrielle says. ”Or, well, at least consider it.”

Xena goes tense and turns to look at her, her eyebrows raised. ”Are you serious?” Her heart is now pounding in excitement, a spark of hope flickering in her chest. 

”Of course I am,” Gabrielle says. ”I mean – we both really want this, and we'll soon find ourselves in a situation where moving is possible. We've spent most of our lives in the suburbs, and this lifestyle, it doesn't really work for us, we already know that. I think it's time for a change.”

”Gabrielle,” Xena says, very seriously. ”Are you really sure about this? I know you're not completely opposed to staying here for the rest of our lives – living in the suburbs has its advantages. I don't want you to agree to this just because you know I've been dreaming of this for God knows how long. I want you to want this as much as I do.”

”I do want this, Xena,” Gabrielle says. ”I always did. I was never against the idea, and you know that.”

”Well, yeah,” Xena says. ”I just want you to be completely sure, because, well. This is an important life decision, and I don't want you to end up regretting it.”

”I've been thinking about it for years,” Gabrielle says. ”And the more I imagine us living like that, the more I want it to actually happen. And I don't just _want_ it, not anymore. There's something much more profound in it, a deep sense of – belonging to a place like that, somehow. Which is weird, because we both have always lived here, in the Cities. It just – it just feels right. It feels like _home_ , you know?”

”I do,” Xena says, a small smile playing at her lips. ”I really do.”

”So, what do you think?” Gabrielle says. ”I suggest we start planning this project, you know, figuring out financing options and the budget, things like that. Not right now, of course – Christmas is only a couple of weeks away, and there's a lot to be done before that. But next year, when we have more time for this, more time for everything.”

”Why don't we continue the conversation over dinner?” Xena says. ”The food should be ready by now.”

”Oh – good,” Gabrielle says. ”I'm starving.” She pulls away from her and gets up, stretching her back and arms. ”We can look at those pictures later. I want to see them, the ones you said you liked.”

They end up spending the rest of the night hanging out in bed and going through more pictures, looking for houses they can imagine themselves living in. It's more of a fun late-night activity than an actual attempt at house hunting, or even an investigation of property prices, the two of them talking and laughing as they scroll through various websites, shoulders touching and legs brushing against each other under the covers. Xena's still extremely happy about all this, but her initial excitement has been replaced by a sense of calmness, a knowing that this is all going to turn out well. She knows they can make a home anywhere as long as they're together, and she has a feeling that this has been true many times before, too, in many different places and lives.


End file.
